


Alas del Amor, Alas de Odio

by TalaSilva



Series: Wings of Love, Wings of Hate [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Wingfic, Winglock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:54:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalaSilva/pseuds/TalaSilva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wings show emotions. The more brilliant the color the more love and happiness is in and has been in the person's life. The duller the color the more hatred and sadness is and has been in the person's life. When someone is born their wings are just fluffed feathers but when the adult feathers grow in, they bring with them a prophecy of emotions based on the brilliancy or dullness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Wings show emotions. The more brilliant the color and sheen the more love and happiness is in and has been in the persons life. The duller the color and sheen the more hatred and sadness is and has been in the person's life. When someone is born their wings are just fluffed feathers. They grown into adult wings around the ages of 10 to 16. When the adult feathers grow in the brighter or duller the color of the wings it is said to show the amount of love or sadness that will be in the persons life. A prediction of the emotion in their future of sorts. 

All this has been true for Sherlock Holmes as well. Everything except the prediction of emotion of his life. Sherlock's wings, when they grew in, where the vibrant black of a raven. Showing years of love. Sherlock never thought this would be true. Already his life was full of hatred and sadness. His older brother is a prodigy. Going to university while his wings were still growing in. Sherlock was always living in his shadow. Sherlock's father's wings were the dull grey of an old falcon, his life had been full of sadness and hatred and he takes it out on his youngest son. Sherlock’s mother, with wings of a once brilliant colours of a swallow, is dying of a cancerous tumor in her wings. The only way to rid her of it is to remove them, which she refuses to do. Yet Sherlock’s wings are a vibrant black. And as his wings grow in they bring the promise of unconditional love and happiness. But Sherlock refuses to hope for what he believes to be false prophecy. 

 

All this about wings was true of John Watson as well. And when his wings grew in he was ecstatic. The bright brown of a hawk’s wings shimmered in the sunlight when he flexed them. The showed him that his life would be forever filled with love, more of the same from his childhood. His mother and father loved each other dearly and although he fought with his older sister sometimes, they always made up. He didn’t know how right that prophecy would turn out to be, or how wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

Its been years since his adult feathers grew in, and the once vibrant black of raven’s wings has dulled. Sherlock is actually glad of this, his wings finally showing truth. He moves out of his father’s house once his mother dies, to escape the wrath  
of his father and start using. Anything to starve off the boredom and despair. Mycroft, having long since gotten a position in the British government, tells him to stop. threatens to put him into rehab. But nothing works, and after years of using, after his wings are  
as dull as can be, he overdoses. By accident or by design we may never know. When Mycroft finds out he rushes his dear little brother to the hospital and then to rehab.

Its been a long hard process but finally Sherlock’s clean. But his wings stay that dingy color he had when he overdosed. When he creates his job of Consulting Detective and helps Scotland Yard with cases he meets DI Lestrade, Sergeant 

Donovan, and Anderson in forensics. Lestrade is the only one to pity his poor wings. Donovan and Anderson think he is and calls him a freak. Sherlock doesn’t care. He reveals that they are sleeping together and gets on with his life. But Donovan and Anderson hate him from that day on.

During all this in sherlock’s life, John’s been studying to be a doctor. Then, a surprise to his family, joins the army. john joins to help people, the soldiers, to save lives. He never imagined just how much the war would fill him with such adrenalin,  
or such sadness. His wings, once Vibrant, now dulled as he fights. He saves many lives and that makes him happy, and his wings try to show it, but there’s just so much death and sadness. john’s wings are always in flux, trying to show both happiness and sadness, at the same time. finally his wings settle on an in between hue. not brilliant but also not dull. the inner struggle ends within him. Just in time for him to be shot trying  
to save another’s life. A bullet tearing through the muscle of his shoulder. He’s invalid home, to London. His wings have lost their in between hue, with nothing to look forward to, the limp, the therapist, the dismal flat he’s forced into, his wings show how deep in misery he is. He goes on a walk to clear his mind. Then he meets Mike Stanford, who introduces him to Sherlock. 


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock looks up from the microscope as the intruder enters the lab. Oh, just Mike, wait his sparrow wings obscured his view. There’s someone else. Shorter that average is a man with sandy blonde hair, cobalt blue eyes, and dull, miserable looking wings, so a great among of hatred or sadness has occupied his life then. Stance, hair cut and position of wings, tucked into his back, says military.

“Not nearly what we had in my day” Says the man to Mike. So trained at Bart’s - Doctor. Army Doctor. 

“Mike can I borrow your phone?”

“What’s wrong with a land line?”

“I prefer to text.” Mike searches his pockets. 

“Sorry left it in my coat.” Sherlock looks back to the microscope, resigning himself to text Lestrade later when the mystery man speaks up.

“”Here,” He takes out his phone, “use mine.” Sherlock looks up surprised.

“Oh.... Thank you.” He tucks in his dismal wings from where they were lounging behind him, stands, and walks up to where the man is holding out his phone. Mike says he’s an old friend, John. John Watson. What a boring name John. When he came in he was limping, so bad he needs a cane, but when he stands he doesn’t ask for a chair, like he’s forgotten about it - psychosomatic then. Those always come with a therapist. When he takes the phone from the stranger and slides it up to the keypad he asks the question weighing on his mind. 

“Afghanistan or iraq?” He takes in the phone at a glance. The engraving says to Harry, so brother, from Clara, a wife? But why would John have it? Brother and wife divorced painfully. Brother is worried about him , wants him to keep in touch. The scratches, the brother’s a drunk, never see a drunk’s phone without those scratches, never see a sober’s one with them.

“Sorry?” The man - John - asks confused, looking over to Mike who gives him a look, his wings fluttering behind him.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” Sherlock truly did detest repeating himself. 

“Afghanistan. Sorry how did you -” The man begins to say but Sherlock cuts him short, handing back his phone and striding back over to his set.

“How do you feel about the violin?”

“I’m sorry what?”

“I play the violin when I’m thinking, sometimes I don’t talk for days. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.” John looks at Mike. 

“You told him about me?”

“Not a word.” Mike shakes his head.

“Then who said anything about flatmates?”

“I did. Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. now here he is, just after lunch with an old friend clearly just home from military serves in Afghanistan. Wasn't a difficult leap.”

“How did you know about Afghanistan?”

“I've got my eye on a nice little place in central London, together we should be able to afford it. I say we meet there around seven tomorrow evening.” All the while talking he was getting his scarf and coat on. “Now if you’ll excuse me I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary.” He’s almost out the door when John’s voice draws him back.

“Is that it?”

“Is that what?”

“ We've only just met and we’re going to look at a flat together?”

“Problem?”

“We know nothing about each other, I don’t know where we’re meeting, I don’t even know your name.”

“I know you’re an army doctor just coming back from Afghanistan. I know you’ve got a brother who’s worried about you, but you won’t go to him for help because you don’t approve of him - possibly because he is an alcoholic, more likely because he just walked out on his wife. And I know your therapist thinks your limp is psychosomatic, quite correctly I’m afraid. that’s enough to be going on don’t you think? He leavers in a flourish but catches the door and pops his head back in. 

“The name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon.” The Door closes after him and he just hears Mike say 

“Yeah, he’s always like that.”


	4. Chapter 4

The next day John meets Sherlock a 221B Baker Street. There he's introduced to Mrs. Hudson, landlady. John is shown the flat and finds that, other than the mess, it is quiet to his liking, and his wings shift in pleasure at the thought of moving out of that dismal flat he lives in now. But then they are interrupted. A man comes in for Sherlock, asks him to come, Sherlock agrees and once the man leaves, jumps and says its Christmas. He tells John to make himself at home, and for Mrs. Hudson to make bulimia some tea, dashing out the door. But soon he comes back. 

"You're a doctor. In fact your an army doctor." he states to John in the doorway. His wings frame his slim body. 

"Yes"

"Any good?" 

"Very good." John's wings bristle at the doubt he hears. 

"Seen a lot of injuries. Violent deaths and a far bit of trouble too." 

"Yes, far too much."

"Care to see some more?" 

"Oh God, yes."

And they rush out the door calling to Mrs. Hudson that they won't need the tea. She comes out of her flat and addresses them. 

"Oh look at you Sherlock, rushing about all excited. It's not decent."

"Who cares about decent?" His wings flutter in excitement. "the game, Mrs. Hudson, is on!"

And that, my friends, is the beginning of Sherlock and John, consulting detectives.


	5. Chapter 5

Years pass and john accompanies Sherlock on almost all of his cases. The cases give him the excitement he missed from the war, and helping people brings him happiness again. Soon his wings return to the vibrant color he had when he was young. They revitalize him, bringing happiness back into his life and he has Sherlock to thank. He finds himself falling slightly in love with the mad consulting detective. But John doesn't think Sherlock could ever love him. So he dates around, looking for someone else to love. But he is always drawn back to Sherlock.

Sherlock’s wings take longer but do eventually return to their youthful vibrancy. He doesn't believe it himself but his wings are brilliant again. And they don’t lie, he’s happy. He’s happy and maybe, just maybe, he’s a little bit in love.  
He starts to rethink his sociopath standing. If his wings show such love he can’t be seen as unfeeling. He’s not unfeeling, not with John. His love shows, his love for John, but he has no clue if John feels the same, well other than his wings. John’s wings have grown vibrant. Sherlock thinks that the hue just shows how much happier his blogger is. No love for any Consulting Detective. He comes to this conclusion because of how much John dates. He doesn't know how wrong his is.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow 1000+ Hits. Just.... Wow.  
> But now I am in a bit of trouble. I don't know how to continue the story! Any ideas? Leave a comment or send a message! Thanks! I love you!


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